The 4th
by Moonraven12
Summary: Jarvan the 4th no longer wanted to be useless, he wanted the strength of a thousand men, he wanted to shatter the earth with his own hands. If he was strong enough...he could protect everyone, he needed power, he wanted power, and he searched for power. until it consumed him. The classified events that transpired during Jarvan the 4th's journey.
1. Chapter 1

Both of Jarvan the 4th's body and mind has been broken by the master tactician they call Jericho Swain. Dressed in his royal attire a heavy armor meant to represent his royal blood, was now in tatters. Bits and bits of tiny shards of his now barely recognizable regalia now fell to the floor some soaked in his blood while others were pieces of his skin, he could not tell which from which.

Pain so unbearable, most men would beg for death and this is what Swain, The master tactician was waiting for. He wanted the pleasure, the absolute pleasure to have the Demacian Prince beg for the sweet embrace of death, he looked upon the body of the prince who looked at the concrete ground of the prison like cell, the water of his tears, the liquid of his blood, the golden shards of his armor-all fell to the floor as he stared at them blankly. Truly, he was someone that could have been classified as broken.

And he truly was…

Swain looked on holding himself up with his wooden cane, truly this was his dream. Looking at his rival-if he could call this broken man his rival at least, the joy of torturing both someone mentally and physically gave swain pure pleasure. Though, it was not all his doing, he was helped by the huntsman's pride Urgot, physically he broke Jarvan, by using all sorts of methods none may speak of. He would have decapitated Jarvan hours ago but was stopped by Swain. Swain wanted the pleasure to take the demacian's prince's life not only that he wanted for him to beg for it, in doing so will give Swain the ultimate form of victory.

But even if Prince Jarvan the 4th no longer spoke, no longer had the eyes that glared at Swain from the floor-he was still fighting on, a fact that both Swain and Urgot acknowledged. Truly, breaking this man would take a lot of work. If this goes on any longer He would surely die…

Swain did not want that, he loved the dying part. He just did not want the dying part without that person begging for it. He stared at the Demacian prince once more, a man who was laying face down to the floor with an empty look in his eyes and his arms outstretched, as though he is trying to pick himself up to no avail.

Mercilessly, Swain used his wooden cane to stab the Demacian Prince's right hand, what followed afterwards were the sound reminiscent of branches being stepped on, with no remorse whatsoever Swain continued, as his ears were filled with the melody of bones breaking. Jarvan, Still quite emotionless was cringing, he was in pain-it wasn't though that he was trying to endure the pain, but it was another reason, he basically didn't have the energy to show his pain anymore.

"You know how to end this, Demacian." Swain said with a voice that taunted Jarvan making him grit his teeth. "Fighting back? It seems like you still have some fight left in you…let me fix that…" Swain uttered as his voice echoed across the room. He released his cane from the prince of demacia's hand giving Jarvan a much needed time to breathe. But what soon followed was a blur…

-Present day-

Jarvan lay sitting, looking across the field of Demacia from his ever faithful stead, Jarvan was no longer the prince that smiled, a prince that people often called prince charming-no, he was someone, truly different. As if he was replaced. When questioned, Jarvan would often stare at a distance, looking beyond something no else could ever see, only he was someone who knew it, because he lived it.

The people closest to him often looked at him in confusion, he was the same person in their eyes, but whenever Jarvan either looks at them in the eyes or turn his back at them, they could not help but wonder, if truly, this was the Demcian Prince that everyone knew.

Jarvan had a reason. He didn't want to be in that situation anymore. Jarvan could take the torture that he endured, caused by Urgot, but he could not take the torture that Swain has caused, it wasn't because Swain used the dark arts to make him feel pain that was unearthly. But instead used a tactic, a tactic most sickening.

Jarvan witnessed his entire army of proud demacian soldiers, tortured and slaughtered afterwards…

Jarvan no longer wanted to be like that, he was too careless. He wanted to be stronger, he wanted to protect everyone. He wanted power...He wanted the power of an entire army, that way needless bloodshed could be avoided.

Jarvan brought out a map from his caravan, a map, dusty and wrinkled. A map to the Great Barrier, Jarvan was tired of all the bandits, and petty crimes surrounding Demacia, No-He needed a challenge. The great barrier was a place that promised just that. It was rumored to be the ground where strange beings lived, at least from some rumors.

But in reality Jarvan knew, he was told by his father the truth. No one has ever come back from the Great Barrier, at least not the same man they once were. Those words echoed throughout Jarvan's mind, he heard that only a handful of people made it out, some were left broken, while other never came out at all.

But Jarvan know for a fact that he, as tragic as it may sound, was broken. A broken man, broken once more would be left useless, though Jarvan knew that in his broken state he was already worthless, unfit to be called a demacian prince, much less their king. This was Jarvan's way of thinking, if his past self would've gazed upon his mind right now, he would be left speechless. Jarvan was no longer a prince charming from the fairy tales. He was no longer even a prince in his eyes. He was just someone, who had nothing left but to atone.

And the great barrier is calling to him…He should follow it.

And without another word Jarvan ordered his squad, handpicked by him towards the Great Barrier. These men were not ordinary, they all had something similar with Jarvan, Families slaughtered, Tragedies in the past-they all had their stories, Jarvan could tell because they had the same eyes as him, the same eyes who looked beyond, beyond something…horrifying. And lived to tell the tale, These men were like him…

…And by the end of this story, these men, would all perish…


	2. Chapter 2

Passing the last village nearest to the great barrier, Jarvan and his men headed out. They spent a night patrolling the little village from invaders-but these were no mere enemies that Jarvan has faced before. Nor he has ever seen in reality. Dark entities, with the form of shadows and the howls of wolves; it caught Jarvan by surprise he wasn't a sheltered man, he has clashed blades with entities not of these earth many times before but these enemies, they were unearthly…

Jarvan examined his lance. The demacian forged weapon looked muddied as he previously used it to impale the dark entity. Looking closer he used his hands to hold the slimy substance only to take it away in a mere second. Jarvan's suspicions were correct these entities who have the form of shadows and the howls of wolves also had the blood of acid. Luckily for Jarvan and his men, they had more than enough weapons to put into harms way, they were prepared to fight the war of a thousand man despite only being counted by the tens, yes, these men were handpicked by Jarvan for that reason alone.

These people had the same experience he had, not literally in the sense but the effect, Jarvan knew it all to well. They all felt broken, useless, a burden to Demacia. They all had the same feeling, Jarvan handpicked these men just by staring at them in the eye, Jarvan knew how to spot a worthy soldier. He looked at them, looked into their very soul and if he couldn't see his reflection in their eyes they were worthy.

The people all looked at Jarvan and his men riding away proudly, these were their saviors, but no once could blame them if they were afraid, they were indeed afraid of their own protectors, yes, they were noble warriors who meant no harm nor cause harm but these people could not shrug away that feeling of dread whenever they approached one of the Demacian soldier or Jarvan himself. Eyes that do not seem to look back at you, is what they noted the most…but they were grateful.

Jarvan rode with his men only mere miles left to the great barrier but Jarvan thought back to his time in the village, nothing sentimental about his bond or anything of the sorts, but the village itself was the one that filled Jarvan's mind with questions. Why were they still there? Jarvan thought to himself, it was a logical question, in all sense it was. Jarvan did not keep this question himself, he had asked this previously to the village elders and chiefs, but their only response was…

"It has to be done, we have to stay here, We await the prophecy…" they all answered leaving Jarvan in a state of wonder, if Jarvan had not have a goal in mind to go to the barrier he would have stayed there, just to discover what makes the clockwork of a village tik.

"Prince, Jarvan. This place…this does not seem like a great barrier…" one of the soldiers said stoically as Jarvan and his men were nearing a colossal wall, they call the great barrier.

"It does not seem like much, but rest assured they do not call it the great barrier for nothing." Jarvan said to the soldier not looking at him but instead facing towards what lies ahead, what lies in his path is the only thing that Jarvan has at least a shred of care for.

Jarvan and his men approached closer, as the afternoon sun began to set. The gust of cold wind swept by them as if to push them as they were mere giant steps away from the great wall. True, the great barrier was just a barrier separating one place to another but some say that it was more than that, Jarvan was skeptical but his thirst for a challenge was most fierce, when compare to that of his reasoning, this is not what Jarvan would careless but instead being adventurous.

And there they were…faced to face with the great barrier…

"Beyond this barrier…is where we will reach atonement." Jarvan said proudly for all to hear, this made his men blood boil in anticipation as just like him, they wanted a challenge worthy of the Gods. "We shall venture during the day, for now we shall rest and strategize our tactics further…" Jarvan stared at the great barrier, as he knew that what lies inside it is nothing he has ever seen before. "…We do not know what we will be up against." Jarvan continued as he jumped from his steed.

….

The men prepared camp and feasted, though a scene of merriment and celebration is what would be expected from proud soldiers, these men, however, were not engaging in any of the sort. These men were busy sharpening their blades and working their bodies, some were thinking of strategies and some were sparring, these were only a dozen men, and yet they could not form a bond within themselves, but their reclusiveness is understandable, these were men who have gone through hell and back, they know-No, they lived through stories that can be classified as fable, they know pain in every sense of the word.

Jarvan looked at the scene, these men were truly like him, and he was truly like them. Try as he may Jarvan can not shrug of this sense of pride. he had looked at himself in the mirror everyday since that event. He looked broken. He thought, that only mere noxians had the same kind of feeling he had right now, it was understandable however, for these eyes resembled those of a person who had want to cause pain and Jarvan wanted to cause so much pain, he used to have a belief to protect but now he believes in protecting and punishing. Noxians believed in punishing and Demacia believed in protecting, but now Jarvan felt the call to punish much greater than the call to protect. For you can punish those who are willing to hurt those you protect but you cannot protect those who have the right to be punished, but it was already a knowledge that humans put to heart.

These men were Demacians, yet their belief rivaled those of noxians, this belief was not wrong however-to Jarvan at least. These men were the future of Demacia…

It was approaching dawn and his men rested, but Jarvan did not. He was restless, his mind lingered. His mind wandered, his mind was in a mix of excitement and anticipation. Jarvan almost felt sick at he looked at himself, a man excited about causing death, truly this man was sick. Jarvan could reason that he was excited because of the adventure that lies ahead but Jarvan can not lie to himself, he wanted to become strong, he wanted the strength of a hundred men and the wisdom of a god. He wanted to experience it all.

Jarvan can not contain it any longer. He threw the blanket that embraced him throughout the night and headed out, weapon in hand. His men will understand that an ambition of a prince can not be contained. He ventured out, unknowing the effects of his actions in the great barrier will cause the prophecy that the strange villagers had unknowingly said to the prince.


End file.
